


Content

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Haircuts, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-07-31 07:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "There is something intimate about the angle of Touya’s head bowed before him, about trailing his fingers through the soft of Touya’s hair, so much darker and smoother than the waves that work themselves through Yukito’s own hair, and if Yukito never commented on it he appreciated every opportunity to draw his fingers to gentle friction across Touya’s scalp with the excuse of a simple task to mask his sincere appreciation." Yukito loves cutting Touya's hair, and the development of their relationship only makes his appreciation easier.





	Content

Touya has very soft hair. Yukito has had plenty of occasion to notice this; he’s spent years as the go-to whenever Touya is in need of a haircut, and Yukito often found himself drifting as much in appreciation as focus on the rhythm of snipping scissors and gentle brushing. There was something intimate about the angle of Touya’s head bowed before him, about trailing his fingers through the soft of Touya’s hair, so much darker and smoother than the waves that work themselves through Yukito’s own locks, and if Yukito never commented on it he appreciated every opportunity to draw his fingers to gentle friction across Touya’s scalp with the excuse of a simple task to mask his sincere appreciation.

He doesn’t have to worry about excuses now, of course. Since Touya saved his life by giving up his power to fuel Yukito’s lifeforce things have been different between them, as every interaction takes some suggested affection and brings it forward into careful clarity. Yukito knows, now, that Touya’s lips are as soft against his mouth as the other’s hair is against his fingers, and he can reach out to claim the weight of those strands for himself whenever he likes, whether he has an excuse to do so or not. Nothing between them has really changed -- they are still themselves, still each other’s best friends -- but something that was only ever implied before has come to the surface, and the pleasure of that is often enough to steal Yukito’s breath from him with a happiness so keen he feels sure he can hardly merit it. There is a joy to those things that have changed, to exploring the boundaries of an affection that seems to go deeper and grow richer the further Yukito explores it; but sometimes he has to draw back from the ache of adoration and retreat to those smaller, simpler pleasures, just to ease back the happiness so bright he feels it burning like sunspots at the backs of his eyes.

Touya is at Yukito’s home, today. It’s often easier to meet at the Kinimoto house, to make an unspoken date of cooking dinner for the four of them, and Yukito is so familiar with Touya’s bedroom it is sometimes easier to relax within the space than what he can manage in the comparative expanse of his own home. But Yukito’s house offers a privacy that only the latest hours can provide at Touya’s, and on those rare occasions Touya suggests that they turn to Yukito’s home Yukito capitulates with the tingling pleasure of anticipation glowing warmth over his cheeks.

They arrived some hours ago, pausing in the entryway to slide off their shoes and shrug free of coats before retreating to the greatest privacy offered within the house. Yukito appreciates making use of his bedroom with Touya, for the pleasure in the moment and for the glow of memory that will linger for days to come whenever he stretches over the mattress and presses his face down to breathe against the smell of Touya’s hair against the pillow. That appreciation is for later, though; today he had the comfort of sharing a bath with Touya, with the water hot enough for steam to curl Yukito’s hair against his forehead and stick Touya’s damp and dark at the back of his neck before the heat became too much and they returned to claim Yukito’s living room floor. Touya sprawled out on his back across the tatami, eyes shut and expression relaxed with the complete ease that comes with combined heat and pleasure, and Yukito sits at the floor next to him, close enough that he can and does reach to feather his fingers into the damp weight of Touya’s hair and smooth it back from the other’s face. Touya accepts this affection with perfect grace, as easily as he would have when it was couched as friendship more than romance; and Yukito supposes there isn’t much difference in any case, except that the feelings both of them have carried for long years are mutually known, now, rather than kept in the silence of their respective hearts.

It is easy to smooth Touya’s hair back from his face. Sometimes it resists the urge of Yukito’s fingers, when the air is dry enough to cling static to the strands or when the soft locks are short enough to drift free of each other; but it’s been some time since Touya’s last haircut, and Yukito can urge the locks straight back from the other’s face to lie smooth over the top of his head. His attention slides down from there, wandering along Touya’s hairline to the curve of his ear; those locks are longer too, Yukito realizes as he tugs gently against them to fit them behind the shape of the other’s ear. Touya’s hair is heavy at the back of his neck, gaining weight in time with the length that is growing out to brush the back of his collar, and Yukito hums as he draws his fingertips down through the strands to gauge their length against the width of his fingers. “You need a haircut, Touya.”

Touya hums in the back of his throat, willing agreement without any personal action behind it. “Whenever you want,” he says, and opens one eye to look up at Yukito. “I’m ready when you are.”

Yukito reaches to push his fingers through Touya’s hair and ruffle loose the careful smooth he had urged into the locks. The dark falls over Touya’s forehead, shadowing his eyes beneath the weight of it, and Yukito smiles and strokes it aside again. “Do you want me to cut it right now?”

Touya doesn’t look away from Yukito’s face. “Sure.”

“Alright.” Yukito pushes his hand through Touya’s hair again, sliding all the way back so Touya’s lashes dip with the comfort, before he drops his hand to the floor so he can push himself to his feet. “I’ll get the scissors and be right back.”

Yukito finds the scissors easily, and a comb too, to smooth loose any knots that he might find in Touya’s drying hair. When he pads back out to the living room Touya has sat up, although his shoulders are still slumped forward as proof of his lingering comfort. He tips his head to look as Yukito comes in the doorway and watches as Yukito draws next to him and kneels to place himself just behind Touya’s shoulders before setting the scissors down and lifting the comb to work Touya’s hair to perfect smoothness over his head and against the back of his neck. Touya ducks his head forward, letting his neck curve to give Yukito easier access to his hair, and when he speaks it’s without lifting his chin to speak. “It might be easier outside, if I sit on the bottom step and you’re on the top.”

Yukito hums and shakes his head. “I can see fine like this,” he says. “And we can just sweep afterwards for cleanup.” He presses a hand against Touya’s hair to feel the damp still clinging to the locks. “You’re hair is still wet, too. With the wind you might catch a cold.”

“I never catch colds,” Touya says, but he stays still all the same. Yukito smooths his hair back, gauging the length and how much he’ll need to trim to clean up the weight, before he sets the comb aside and reaches for the scissors.

“Wait,” Touya says, as Yukito’s fingers touch to draw out the first strand of his hair. “You don’t have a drape here, do you? Let me take my shirt off so I can keep it clean.”

Yukito rocks back over his heels. “I should have thought of that,” he admits. “Do you want to wait until we’re at your house? I can do it there just as easily.”

Touya shakes his head. “No. This is fine,” he says, and reaches to hold the edge of his shirt and strip it up over his head and off his arms. The motion ruffles his hair around his face again, but Yukito isn’t going to protest another excuse to run his fingers through Touya’s hair any more than he intends to complain about the other stripping his shirt free. Touya tosses his shirt aside and resumes his forward lean. “There you go.”

Yukito rocks forward again, coming up over his knees so he can get a better angle on combing Touya’s hair back down to smoothness. Touya dips his head forward to better give way to Yukito’s touch; the comfort in him is so clear that Yukito lingers longer than he needs to in the calming motion of drawing the comb through the other’s hair and across his scalp, and when he does set the comb aside it’s without lifting his steadying touch from the top of Touya’s head. He returns to his position, scissors in hand, so he can draw a lock of Touya’s hair out and begin carefully trimming the last inch to bring it back to the shorter style the other usually maintains.

Quiet spreads out around them to fill the space of the living room. There’s the soft sound of the scissors moving against each other as Yukito snips each lock of Touya’s hair back from the weight it has grown into, but other than that Yukito can’t even hear the sound of their breathing. Touya is very still where he’s leaned in over his knees; Yukito would think he had drifted towards sleep, except that when Yukito leans forward to reach for Touya’s forehead Touya lifts his head without being asked to tip his head back and ease Yukito’s stretch. Yukito continues as he began, working through Touya’s hair with careful attention, until he has the greater part of it cut back to the shorter length that is so much easier to care for. He lingers over the curve of Touya’s ears to trim the strands there into a careful arc, and brings up the back a little higher to smooth out the line of Touya’s hair at the back of his neck, and then he closes the scissors and sets them aside so he can reach up and run both hands through Touya’s hair to check the length.

“It looks good,” he declares at last as he lets his hands slide free and rocks back over his knees. “You’re all set.”

“Mm.” Touya turns his head to look back over his shoulder and duck in towards Yukito again. “That felt good.”

“What?” Yukito asks. “This?” He lifts his hand to ruffle through Touya’s hair and Touya hums a note of pleasure in the back of his throat.

“Yeah.” He tips in sideways, letting his weight angle back until his head weights against Yukito’s shoulder and the other is supporting their balance together. Yukito can feel a smile threatening at his mouth but he just goes on carding his fingers through Touya’s hair, pressing a little harder so he can drag sensation over the other’s scalp with his nails. Touya leans the harder against him, relaxing into Yukito’s support, and Yukito lifts an arm to hold around Touya’s shoulders in a casual embrace while he goes on working his touch over the other’s head.

“Maybe I should have done this before the shower,” Yukito observes, considering the strands of dark hair scattered across Touya’s bare shoulders. “Do you want to take another bath?”

Touya shakes his head against Yukito’s shoulder. “Later,” he says. “This is nice, right now.”

Yukito hums. “It is,” he agrees. He tightens his arm around Touya’s shoulders and lifts his hand back to wind through the other’s freshly-cut hair again; against him Touya lifts his far arm to reach around and touch his fingers against Yukito’s shirt like he’s looking for a hold against the fabric. After a moment his fingertips slide under the hem, urging up by an inch until he can press his touch against the warmth of Yukito’s bare skin before he relaxes back into comfortable stillness. Yukito smiles at the top of Touya’s head, and leans into the weight of the other’s body against him, and goes on sliding his touch through Touya’s hair with no greater intent than letting the glow of affection in him pattern itself into their shared contentment.


End file.
